


Let Me Serenade You

by they_hear_the_music



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, M/M, Musical Theatre Major!Grantaire, Nonbinary Character if you squint, Pining, Pining Enjolras, all the amis are there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 06:44:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,055
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4615233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/they_hear_the_music/pseuds/they_hear_the_music
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 times Enjolras heard Grantaire sing + 1 time Enjolras sang for Grantaire</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Me Serenade You

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first les mis fic I ever started (which was about a year ago) and now it's finally finished.  
> This is basically one giant 'I want Grantaire to sing musical songs I like because I said so'.  
> I try.
> 
> A thousend and one thanks go out to my [beta](http://thesewersofparis.tumblr.com) she is amazing and has to read all my unedited crap and i love her so much

  
~. 1. Rent .~

 

The first time Enjolras had heard Grantaire sing he'd had no idea who Grantaire even was.

It had happened during the first month of university, while Enjolras had been searching for Marius who kept getting lost on campus. Courfeyrac had declared that he would not be part of any meetings that took place while his close, personal friend was lost somewhere. Possibly crying. It had happened.

Which is how he had ended up in the theatre department. He had been here before, since Jehan and Bossuet were both doing a minor in drama, and he had no idea why or how Marius should have ended up here. But they had found him in less likely places before so Enjolras was not taking any chances. Randomly knocking on as it turned out locked doors he walked through the hallway until he reached one from which he heard muffled sounds of people talking and last cords of some music. He knocked and when there was no reaction carefully opened it to look inside. Apparently he had found one of the side doors to the university theatre stage. There were about ten students running around, carrying and painting props. Enjolras slipped in unnoticed to ask if they had seen a lost linguistics major around, when his attention got caught by the two people on the stage. One was a blonde woman in a black tank top, the other a man with dark curls wearing a green shirt.

“I don't know, dude,” said the blonde. “Maybe you can just show me the how its supposed to look? Because you're kinda crap at describing it…”

The guy gave a long suffering sigh in response. “Fine. Hit the music,” he gestured off stage and the one in the tank top obediently hopped off to switch some music on, while he sat down on the couch placed on the stage, picked up a guitar and put it on his knee.

Enjolras had never been one for the theatre or arts in general, but he was curious what the man – now alone on the stage – would display. Besides, he could hardly interrupt now that they were about to perform.

“Okay so,” Dark Curls told the woman off stage. “You try playing-” He played a few cords. It sounded nice. “Then get frustrated and put the guitar next to you,” the man said while following his own instructions.

“Just sing the damn thing. It's your grade, too,” the other interrupted. Dark Curls blinked in surprise then nodded while the music started. He scrambled to his feet and mimed swallowing something, then frowned down at the little container in his hand.

Then he started to sing, yearningly and tender, and Enjolras felt like someone punched him in the gut. A tiny part of his brain asked himself how good the other guy must be if this was not the one to actually perform. The rest was busy trying to comprehend how singing with such rich emotion was even possible. " _From the pretty boy front man / Who wasted opportunity!"_ The beaten undertones shifted to frustration in the mans voice and he let himself fall back into the couch, to run a hand through his already messy curls and, oh, that should probably not be attractive. " _On another empty life / Time flies, time dies!_ " The intensity in his voice rapidly increased while he got up again, standing on the couch, singing " _Glory!_ " now with desperation in his voice, then jumping off. " _One blaze of glory!_ "

The tension left his shoulders and he visibly shrunk when he got back to singing soft and exhausted. " _A song about love from the soul of a young man / A young man._ " Again he was building up the desperation and intensity in his voice, faster this time, and Enjolras felt an actual ache for the character this man was portraying without having any form of actual knowledge about them. When he finished with the last two notes sounding defeated again, Enjolras had to keep himself from clapping and making his presence known.

 

He slipped out of the theatre soon after without actually asking for Marius, unnoticed by the two men now bickering about the run through. It took him five minutes to remember why he was in the theatre department in the first place and another five until his breathing had completely evened out again.

 

 

~. 2. Hair .~

 

The dark haired man's name was Grantaire, Enjolras learned roughly two weeks later at the beginning of a meeting, and he had been friends with Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta for two years. Also Grantaire had very bright blue eyes, which was in no way important. His awe for the singer had lasted exactly three minutes into the meeting, when Grantaire interrupted him with a sarcastic grin splitting his face.

"Right," Grantaire snorted. "Like that's gonna work!"

The argument that followed took up most of the time planed for the actual meeting and left both of them breathless.

 

Grantaire – much to Enjolras's despair – fit into their group easily. Well, not actual despair, because Enjolras was always content when his friends were happy, but he caught himself hoping Grantaire would not come back after their first fight. Obviously the man hadn't missed a meeting since.

It would be easier to be mad at him or to dislike him in general if Grantaire wasn't so incredibly smart either. With absolutely no faith in humanity - or in anything really - he apparently took great pleasure in mocking Enjolras's causes, his beliefs and his actions. Enjolras knew he shouldn't hate someone sorely for having a different approach on life than himself, but he came to disdain the cynic and all he stood for, his smoking ( _who would even do that with a voice like his??_ ), his drinking, and his tendency of never taking anything seriously. So in a way, yes, maybe he hated Grantaire.

But Grantaire had, as it seemed, come to stay and even Enjolras couldn't deny his good sides, like the way he could make shy, silent Jehan laugh at the top of their lungs, like the way he and Eponine fell into sync, making her smile more in the process, or how he more than once had abandoned his drink to play wingman for his new friends. So he just accepted the fact that he now had a friend he personally might not like all that much but the rest of his friends adored and solemnly swore that he would tolerate Grantaire.

 

Most of them went out a lot. According to Courfeyrac, this was what university was for, _hello?!_ But to get them all out together was quite rare, since Feuilly worked a lot and Enjolras couldn't care less about partying and it just generally wasn't easy to coordinate that many people. So it took them almost four months since they had gone from a group of twelve to a group of thirteen until they actually all went out together again and to commemorate this joyous occasion Grantaire apparently decided to leave Enjolras be for once without showing up with some new argument halfway through the evening. The few times Enjolras had come along with them, these had covered a range of Enjolras snapping at some stupid joke Grantaire had made to Enjolras being actually momentarily speechless after being presented with a long and well researched rant about something Enjolras had mentioned two meetings ago.

To be fair, not all the arguments they had were Grantaire's or entirely Grantaire's fault. But he was always magically _right there_ when Enjolras was having a particularly bad day, lazy grin on his lips, ready to throw a “But do we, like, even _need_ social justice anymore?” his way until either of them saw red and they started shouting.

Even though Grantaire was horribly wrong most of the time, Enjolras made sure to always find Grantaire later to talk civilly about whatever it had been this time they had picked a fight over and sometimes maybe to apologize. Grantaire always waved him off with a laugh and said that it was fine, which it really wasn't and worried Enjolras sometimes. Sometimes it was almost too easy to snap at Grantaire, like maybe he wanted him to. Thoughts like these worried Enjolras even more.

 

They were all on their way back to campus, where most of them lived, all of them happily buzzed, when it happened the second time.

Grantaire walked a few feet ahead of Enjolras, next to Bahorel who was telling him about the part of London he grew up in. Grantaire laughed along with his jokes, linking their arms together, when Bahorel stopped talking for a few seconds.

“ _Manchester, England, England,_ ” Grantaire sang and it was really not fair how wonderful he sounded despite the obscene amounts of alcohol the he had consumed. “ _Across the Atlantic Sea_ ”

"He has such a beautiful voice," Jehan sighed next to him, half wrapped up in Courfeyrac, and Enjolras nodded before he could stop himself. He hadn't really told anyone about how he had met Grantaire and he was content to keep it that way. Very content.

“ _And he's a genius, genius,”_ Grantaire continued, gently shoving Bahorel, which made him laugh.

“ _And he believes in God._ ” Feuilly apparently knew the lyrics too because he started to sing along, making Bahorel laugh even more. “ _And he believes that God-_ ” the two sang passionately.

“ _\- believes in Claude, That's him,_ ” Courfeyrac joined in. “ _That's him._ ”

They all started laughing, Enjolras laughing along with them. It was easy to be happy when his friends were happy.

It took almost two weeks for Courfeyrac to stop calling Bahorel 'Claude'.

 

 

~. 3. Grease .~

 

Enjolras lay awake on his part of the futon, Combeferre – already fast asleep – breathing steadily next to him, and stared holes into the ceiling, desperately trying to find the point of his and Grantaire's argument where he should have just stopped. Somewhere before he had told Grantaire that he was a useless drunk and should stop coming to the meetings, definitely. It had been Jehan's birthday for crying out loud. It technically still was Jehan's birthday but most of them were asleep somewhere in Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta's apartment now. All was quiet except the faint sounds of whispers coming from the kitchen, where Jehan and Grantaire had retreated to when Grantaire had finally come back. He'd stormed out after Enjolras had told him he was incapable of taking care of anything and that it was a miracle that he was still alive and Enjolras couldn't help but flinch at the memory of these words, cursing his inability to think straight when angry. Or maybe only when angry with Grantaire, Enjolras really couldn't tell anymore at this point.

The sound of the kitchen door opening made him snap out of his thoughts, closing his eyes quickly.

“Are you sure?” Jehan asked.

“Yeah, man. Just go find Courf to cuddle. I'll drink some water and then crash on the couch,” Grantaire answered. He sounded beat but not entirely unhappy and Enjolras made a mental note to thank Jehan tomorrow when he was apologizing to them for making a scene. The little poet lingered for a moment but they shuffled off into the guest room, where their boyfriend was waiting for them.

Enjolras was half ready to get up and talk things over with Grantaire, when Enjolras heard him starting to sing and for the first time Enjolras knew the song. Courfeyrac had made him watch Grease one time too many, so even as Grantaire's voice was drowned in the noise of the running water Enjolras knew the words.

“ _I'm hopelessly devoted to you._ ”

 

When Grantaire let himself fall onto the couch some time later, Enjolras pretended to be asleep.

 

 

~. 4. Hairspray .~

 

They were cautious around each other for quite some time and when they found their way back to their routine there were no personal insults anymore. They still yelled. A lot actually. But both refrained from talking about anything else than what they were discussing. It was almost nice to have a debate partner like that, even though some of their arguments ended with shouts along the lines of “You are so fucking wrong!” and “Like hell I am!” back and forth. It was not the peak of educated debate but it was better than “Naive idiot” and “Coward”.

 

They had one big get together in the Joly/Bossuet/Musichetta household in their last week before summer, since everyone was finally done with exams and they could all relax now. Enjolras hadn't talked to half of them in weeks and was happy enough to see them all to even have a wide smile and half a hug for a startled Grantaire when he opened the door for him. The whole day he was simply way too relaxed to even start an argument with anyone and only laughed good-naturedly when Grantaire joked that someone should check his programming because he seemed to have a bug. All in all it was a nice evening that soon devolved into nonsense. Courfeyrac was playing some sort of clap game with Jehan, who kept loosing because they had to laugh, while Bahorel lost to Cosette in arm wrestling. No one really knew where she picked that up, but whenever Marius came back from dinner with her fathers he looked shaken. They never asked. Eponine was sprawled on the floor, limbs tangled with Joly and Musichetta, head pillowed in Bossuet's lap, eyes closed, which was good because at the other end of the room Feuilly was teaching Gavroche defensive techniques against a knife attack armed only with a fan under the worried eyes of Marius. They were using a butter knife but still. Grantaire and Combeferre had retreated to the dinner table talking about something. They had gotten quite close in the last few month, bonding over their mutual love for classic literature.

Courfeyrac picked this moment to get up, pulling Jehan with him. “ _Once i was a selfish fool, who never understood,_ ” he sang only mildly harmonic but Jehan beamed at him and that seemed to be the point. “ _Never looked inside myself, though on the outside I looked good!_ ” He gave the room in general a smug grin waiting for approval. Only when most of them had either cheered or laughed he continued. The song was vaguely familiar and Enjolras was pretty sure the lyrics weren't “ _Jehan, I'm in love with you, no matter what you say!_ ” no matter how enthusiastic Courfeyrac sang them.

Scenes like these weren't such an unusual occurrence, especially since Grantaire had joined their group of friends. Grantaire was always singing or humming like it was part of his being, except when arguing. And since that was all they seemed to be capable of doing, Enjolras had never really heard much of Grantaire's singing, he realized with a sudden pang of regret. He knew that Grantaire was one year above them and majoring in Musical Theatre yet Enjolras had never been to any of his productions. Was that because Grantaire told no one or did he just not want him there?

Enjolras raised an eyebrow when Combeferre got up and joined in. “ _Living in the ghetto black is everywhere you go._ ” Which got him a few laughs. He grinned down at Grantaire who looked surprised for a moment before one of his rare actual smiles stretched over his face, the ones that meant he was genuinely happy. “ _Who'd thought I'd love a girl whose skin was white as winter snow._ ” That earned them even more laughs and a cat call from Bahorel. Grantaire shook his head, grinning, but got up as well, throwing an arm around Combeferre's shoulders, which looked quite ridiculous with Grantaire being almost a foot shorter than Combeferre, forcing the him to bend down towards him. Somehow Enjolras didn't feel like laughing, though.

Then Grantaire basically sang into Combeferre's cheek and like always his singing wiped all coherent thoughts from Enjolras head. “ _In my ivory tower life was just a hostess snack._ ” Enjolras was vaguely aware that this part was supposed to be really high but Grantaire sang it deep and raspy, which should be prohibited, Enjolras was sure. For his next line Grantaire lifted his other arm as well, grabbing Combeferre's collar and pulling them flush against one another. “ _But now I've tasted chocolate, I'm never going back,_ ” he sang now with the full force of his voice. All eyes were on the two of them, Combeferre staring slightly startled down at a smirking Grantaire. Then he grinned back and soon they had to fall back into their seats shaking with helpless laughter.

“You're an idiot,” Combeferre managed.

“You started it,” answered Grantaire as soon as he was able to form a sentence again.

“Way to steal our show guys!” Courfeyrac deadpanned, only making Combeferre and Grantaire laugh louder.

Enjolras was very unsure about how to feel about all of this.

 

 

~. 5. Newsies .~

 

Things seemed determined to go wrong today. It had taken all summer to organize this protest, given that most of them had used the break to move away from campus and into apartments. And now it could have been all for nothing.

Everything was in order, the stage was set up for Enjolras to give his speech, which was written perfectly (he had even let Grantaire do some editing which surprisingly hadn't ended in a fight) and people had shown up, quite a lot of them actually. Now if only the sound system would work. But it didn't and Enjolras was close to ripping out his hair, because soon people were going to start leaving and they could use every possible voice for this issue. Joly and Combeferre did their best but they hadn't even figured out what was wrong yet.

“Fingers crossed,” called Bossuet, while standing as far away from the electronics as possible to keep his bad luck away. On top of that Courfeyrac, Musichetta, Jehan and Grantaire were nowhere to be seen and Enjolras tried very hard not to assume that the cynic had just wandered off and the others were looking for him. That's when he heard a familiar voice carrying a tune above the noise of the crowd and he turned faster than he'd like to admit.

Grantaire had climbed on top of the fountain in the middle of the square and sang.

“ _Open the gates and seize the day / Don't be afraid and don't delay._ ”

Something was off though. His hands were clutching the hem of his shirt and his voice was clear and audible yet shaky. He was nervous, Enjolras realized with surprise. Grantaire was never nervous. Especially about singing.

“ _Nothing can break us / No one can make us / Give our rights away / Arise and seize the day!_ ”

He took a deep but shaky breath. “ _Now is a time to seize the day!_ ”

And from just below him Courfeyrac, Musichetta and Jehan answered, repeating the line. Most of the crowd paid attention now and they seemed to get the concept, because when Grantaire sang the next line “ _Send out the call and join the fray!_ ” almost half the crowed answered his call. The people learned fast, already singing along when Grantaire started over.

And when half an hour later the system finally worked Enjolras stood before an already rallied crowd before his speech had even started. The song was even picked up again when they marched around town.

Only when the last few people had left hours later Enjolras allowed himself to think about what had happened and the sudden need to talk to Grantaire surfaced, to ask him why, thank him, shake him a bit - Enjolras was not sure what he wanted to do or say. He only knew he had to find him. Now.

 

Grantaire was talking to Eponine but when she saw him approach them she just grinned knowingly, clapped his shoulder and retreated. They stood in front of each other in silence for about a minute, in which all Enjolras was capable of was staring at this confusing man in front of him.

“Why?” he finally produced. “Why would you- You've never-” He took another step towards Grantaire and grabbed his shoulders. Not being able to finish sentences was new grounds for him. He shook the very startled Grantaire a bit for good measure. “I really don't- Grantaire!” he almost whined. Almost. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“I cannot possibly thank you enough,” he said, opening his eyes again after having found some form of composure. “But I really don't understand. I was under the impression that you think all of this is fruitless.”

He only realized that he had been clinging to Grantaire when he let go to gesture at the aftermath of the protest. Grantaire only looked back at him, eyes wide. Enjolras wasn't sure he was breathing. Then he smiled like Enjolras had never seen him smile, fond and tender, and something in Enjolras' stomach fluttered.

“I do think that. But just because I have trouble believing in your causes doesn't mean I don't care for them.”

And it took all Enjolras had, not to jump Grantaire then and there and kiss him senseless.

_Oh._

 

 

~. 6. Legally Blonde .~

 

So, Enjolras had feelings for Grantaire.

In retrospect, he mused, he probably should have seen this coming. It wasn't like Grantaire had left his thoughts much since he had heard him sing for the first time, even though it hadn't always been good attention he had given him. It was alright. It was just a crush. He could deal with a crush. What he couldn't deal with was said crush, naked in his shower. Singing, of all things. Naked and singing.

This was all Combeferre's fault, really. When Grantaire had told him about the work that needed to be done in his apartment building and how the noise was driving him mad, Combeferre, good soul that he was, immediately offered him their couch for the ten days that the construction work would take. He had even turned around to ask Enjolras if that would be alright with him and Enjolras was really not proud of the undignified squeak he had made in response. He also hadn't decided yet if the fact that the sound he made was interpreted as approval had been good or bad luck.

“ _Seeing my name up on that list / That beats the first time that we kissed,_ ” Grantaire's voice was clear and beautiful, even through the wall that separated Enjolras' room from the bath. He could move to the living room, any room really, that wasn't this close to the bathroom, but no, he had to sit on his bed, like a creep, knuckles white from how hard he was clutching his coffee mug, head resting against the wall, musing how this was probably the closest he was ever gonna get to a naked Grantaire.

“ _Seeing my name in black and white / Is like making love with you all night!_ “

Enjolras only barely suppressed a frustrated groan.

“ _No wait it feels so much better, hello much better, it's ah ah aH AH! Much better!_ ”

Yeah, maybe he was not staying here after all. He scrambled to his feet, grabbed his wallet and left the house, like he should have done the moment Grantaire had popped his head into his room asking if it was okay if he sang in the shower.

The fresh air helped cool his head and he decided to make a quick grocery run so he had an excuse for leaving the house so abruptly. Maybe he could get some chocolate. There was this one with rum that Grantaire really liked and yeah wow, how did he even know that?

Enjolras let out a long-suffering sigh and ran a hand down his face, something he caught himself doing a lot lately. So he had a crush on the one person he was incapable of having a normal conversation with. A person that quite possibly disliked him quite a bit. A person who was friends with him solely because they happened to be friends with the same people. A person that would probably stop talking to him altogether if he ever found out about his crush. He didn't even know if Grantaire was interested in guys. Not that that would make a difference, since Enjolras was probably the last person on his mind.

 

When Enjolras got home he was greeted with a shirtless Grantaire rubbing his hair dry, sweatpants sitting low on his hipbones. Enjolras basically fled into his room, not before choking out some greeting and placing– amongst other things – three bars of rum chocolate on the kitchen counter.

God, he was so, so fucked.

 

 

~. 7. Heathers .~

 

He got used to his crush pretty easily, as far as you can get used to a crush anyway.

They had their first big argument since the protest two days after Grantaire had started living on their couch and even though it had been heated there had been no yelling. They talked for four hours straight until everything was said and then Grantaire made them spaghetti.

It was back to normal after that except it really wasn't. Arguments and bickering were still their main form of communication, but it seemed that at that protest something had finally clicked. There was something amicable between them now which even allowed them to slip from arguments into actual conversation, much to Enjolras delight. Enjolras had been sure that Grantaire crashing with them would blow up in his face in one way or another but to his surprise things continued to go smoothly. They were finally friends.

His heartbeat still picked up whenever Grantaire fixed him with his intense blue eyes full of unreadable emotions or when their fingers brushed or when Grantaire laughed at one of his own jokes, but this, this friendship thing, this was something Enjolras could do. Something Enjolras was sure he would want even without his feelings for Grantaire and now that he had gotten a shot at that, he was not going to screw this up. So any form of showing his crush was off the table. Not that it had ever been on the table, even though frankly, he wouldn't say no to having Grantaire on a table.

In the end he'd really rather be Grantaire's friend than make things awkward between them again.

 

It was Grantaire's last night and he had decided to make some fancy chicken curry - a recipe from his mother - as a thank you for letting him stay, so the kitchen was off limits for the time. Not that Enjolras minded, he had a fresh cup of coffee sitting on his desk, half written speech open on his laptop and was ready to dive right in, when Grantaire began to sing. He should be used to it by now but he still stopped for a few seconds to listen whenever he heard the other man sing.

His voice was muffled through the closed door and it was impossible to make out any words. Enjolras hesitated for half a second, then downed his coffee while already getting up. Empty cup in hand he opened the door and made his way to the kitchen.

“ _They'll hunt me down in study hall / Stuff and mount me on the wall / Thirty hours to life - how shall I spend them?_ ” Grantaire startled when Enjolras slipped into the small kitchen, heading straight for the coffeemaker. He gave him an encouraging smile and Grantaire continued his song. “ _I don't have to stay and die like cattle / I could change my name and ride up to Seattle,_ ” Enjolras fussed with the machine a bit longer than strictly necessary, then sat down on the remaining unused part of the counter while his coffee started brewing. “ _But I don't own a motor bike -_ ” Grantaire interrupted the cutting of various vegetables to look up, meeting Enjolras eyes. For the fraction of a second he thought he saw hesitation in his eyes, but then Grantaire's face was split by a wicked grin, that was definitely getting on the list of things that Grantaire shouldn't be allowed to do anymore.

“Wait!” he more said than sang, eyes still on Enjolras. “ _Here's an option that I like!_ ” And oh, he was not only singing now but singing at Enjolras, _to_ Enjolras. It was fortune that he was already sitting because Grantaire looking at him while singing did things to his knees. “ _Spend these thirty hours getting freaky!_ ” The grin if possible widened even more and when Grantaire wiggled his eyebrows over-dramatically at him, while he shut one of the open drawers with his hip and there was no air in the room. Enjolras managed to roll his eyes at him but Grantaire just winked back. Reaching what appeared to be the chorus Grantaire threw his head back and danced around the kitchen, collecting the cut vegetables and putting them into the big pot already simmering on the stove. Enjolras elected to not linger on the phrase “ _I need it hard, I'm a dead girl walking!_ ” but then Grantaire started the second verse. “ _Sorry, but I really had to wake you / See I decided I must ride you 'till I break you!_ ”

Enjolras could feel his eyes widen and a hot blush forming high on his cheeks, while his mind unnecessarily provided him with pictures. Grantaire, too focused on his singing and his cooking, didn't even notice. “ _Tonight I'm yours, I'm your dead girl walking!_ ” He shot his coffee a pleading glance, trying to make the machine finish faster through sheer willpower. This had been a very bad idea. Abort mission.

Lucky for him his coffee was done only seconds later. He grabbed it, managing to not spill everything on his hands, gave Grantaire a short nod – very much hoping his face did not betray too much – and fled the kitchen.

Usually he took his coffee with milk and sugar but going back was not an option, so he disappeared into his room. He placed the coffee on his desk while sitting down and then put his head into his hands, trying to slow down his heartbeat. This was seriously getting ridiculous!

There was a knock on the door.

“Er… Enjolras?” asked Grantaire, because _of-fucking-course_.

After taking a deep breath he straightened his shoulders and turned around in his chair. "Yeah?"

The door was opened slowly and a hesitant Grantaire entered his room. For the first time, his brain unhelpfully provided. He was holding a milk carton in one hand and in the other the sugar box.

“Um,” he said awkwardly after Enjolras just stared at him. “I was just. … You usually take your coffee with milk and sugar and I know how caught up you get in studying so I thought maybe you just forgot these?” This was the second time Enjolras had seen Grantaire act nervous, he realized distantly. Everything else was drowned in _Grantaire knows how I take my coffee what does that mean send help_. He had no idea how to do any of this. Of course there was always the option of talking to Courfeyrac about his crush and asking for help but Enjolras also kind of didn't want to be laughed at for five minutes straight. Not that Courfeyrac would usually laugh at people's problems, as ridiculous as they might be, but with long years of friendship came certain teasing privileges. Anyway, back to Grantaire getting increasingly flustered by Enjolras lack of reaction.

So he pulled himself together and smiled. “Yeah... I guess I did. Thanks!”

 

 

~. 8. Wicked .~

 

Halloween had arrived and Courfeyrac was dead set on trick-or-treating, which meant that there really was no way around that. And so it was that on the evening of the 31st Enjolras was dragged out of the house by Combeferre. Both hadn't really spent much thought or time on their costumes and had simply thrown on what was left of Courfeyrac's zombie make up. Combeferre had made an effort and put in his contacts so he could wear his old glasses that got snapped in half during a riot two years ago. He had kept them as a memento. Jehan had given them some blood (hopefully fake and from the theatre department, but Enjolras was not sure), which they had splattered all over the old clothes that they were now wearing. So there was that.

They had decided to meet up close to Courfeyrac's and Marius' place and they were already waiting for them together with Jehan. Like every year Marius was wearing a fully historically accurate costume of Napoleon Bonaparte, which Enjolras thought was hilarious. He knew the kid was wearing it because he liked it and because parts had belonged to his father, but Enjolras could not help but to smirk at the fact that he was wearing it on the one holiday where you're supposed to wear something scary. Courfeyrac on the other hand, had worn something different every year and Enjolras was sure that since 8th grade, when he had dressed up as a ballerina, he was trying to out-do himself every year. They were all waiting for the Halloween that Courfeyrac just went nude. This time however, he had picked something from his favorite movie,that Enjolras vaguely recognized since he had been forced to watch it bimonthly since it had come out. He had to admit though, that Courfeyrac looked pretty good in high heels. And the piano key printed skirt with the length of actual piano keys, held in place by suspenders, was one of the more artistic costumes in the movie. He was glad that his friend had thrown on a woolen jacket, though. Otherwise he would have probably frozen to death. Jehan was dressed as Hamlet, all in black, as they did every year, waving the human skull at them upon their arrival.

“Zombies? Again?” Courfeyrac asked with a pout before they even had a chance to say hello.

“Yes. It seems you are extravagant enough for all three of us this year too,” Combeferre shot back and smiled.

Joly, Bossuet and Musichetta arrived shortly after as Nurse Joy, Brook and Officer Jenny from Pokemon. Marius congratulated them on how amazing they looked, while Courfeyrac was busy laughing himself silly.

Next to arrive was Bahorel, painted pink from head to toe, with a big screw sticking out of his temple, white ribbons in his mohawk and wearing a tutu and a bodysuit, that stretched dangerously over his broad shoulders. No one _ever_ knew what Bahorel's elaborate costumes were supposed to be and Enjolras was about to ask when Grantaire, flanked by Eponine and Cosette, arrived. All three of them looked stunning and Enjolras was going to die. He was actually going to die and never see the brighter tomorrow he was working towards and it was all Grantaire's fault.

Under normal circumstances Enjolras would have noticed that Cosette was wearing a beautiful, puffy blue dress, a tiara on her head and in the hand that wasn't locked with Grantaire's arm, a long wand. Or that Eponine had painted herself green and was wearing a long black dress, looking like the evil witch from the wizard of Oz. But he didn't notice any of that, because Grantaire was wearing a white shirt under a red vest, black boots and off-white tights and it took all Enjolras had to keep his eyes on Grantaire's face and not where the tights left little to the imagination.

If he happened to make it through this night he was going to kill whoever had come up with whatever those three were portraying. And then maybe Grantaire. And with killing Grantaire he meant bending him over a table and-

“Oh my god, guys, you look amazing!” Courfeyrac exclaimed.

Grantaire grinned, freed his arms and actually did a slightly wobbly pirouette.

“Thank you,” Cosette said, fond eyes on Grantaire. “'Aire got the theatre department to lend us the costumes and I've always wanted to be Glinda.”

And she did a turn herself, showing off her beautiful dress, that Enjolras still couldn't really direct his attention to.

“I just want to point out that I'm not doing the swirly-thing,” Eponine remarked, getting some laughs for that.

Enjolras was still staring at Grantaire and he really needed to snap out of this. It took him quite some willpower to avert his eyes, which was rewarded by his head clearing up immediately. The clever thing to do tonight was probably to stay away from Grantaire, who caught his eyes and smiled hesitantly. Enjolras smiled back, knowing that he was definitely not going to make clever decisions tonight.

Feuilly arrived about ten minutes later wearing his work clothes covered in what turned out to be real blood.There had been an accident at the construction site Feuilly worked on and he had driven the person to the hospital and made sure that they were going to be fine, which left him no time to change before coming to meet them.

“You can just hang out with 'Ferre and Enj' and pretend to be a zombie,” Courfeyrac said after Feuilly had finished his story and both Joly and Jehan had hugged him at least once.

 

They started the route Jehan had planned for them, pre-approved by Combeferre to avoid aimless wandering or unnecessary detours over graveyards - one was enough as they had all decided - and Enjolras fell in pace with Grantaire.

“Hey,” he greeted hoping that he didn't sound as awkward as he felt.

Grantaire still looked surprised whenever Enjolras talked to him outside an argument, something Enjolras hoped to fix through increased exposure.

“Hey,” Grantaire said back.

They were silent for a moment.

“What's that from?” Enjolras blurted out, before he could stop himself, gesturing vaguely at Grantaire's costume, carefully keeping his eyes on Grantaire's face.

Grantaire blinked. “Wicked?”

“One of your musicals?” Enjolras asked causing Grantaire's eyes to widen in comical disbelieve.

“Oh, you poor soul, look at you. Doesn't know what Wicked is...” And he shook his head for emphasis.

Enjolras gave him a flat stare in return. Grantaire laughed.

“Yeah it's a musical. You should see it if you ever get the chance, you'd like it.”

“I will,” he said.

They were silent again and Enjolras really hated how awkward this was. He just wanted to have a normal conversation with a friend, why was that so hard? Okay granted, a friend he wanted to pin against surfaces and make out with, but that shouldn't matter.

“So how's that thing going?” Grantaire asked.

It took Enjolras a moment to piece together that _that thing_ was Enjolras' and Feuilly's thesis project, for which they were trying to establish a homeless shelter in a more saver neighborhood than the one they already had in the city.

“It's… frustrating,” Enjolras answered. “Everything happens so slowly when half the people you try to convince don't really take you seriously or only offer short term options since _it's just a thesis project anyway_.”

“Told ya.”

A few month ago they would have probably started fighting over a smug answer like this, but now Enjolras just sighed. “Yeah, you did.”

“You know, I know a few people whose parents are important and who would probably do it for the credit more than to help people, but yeah, they could probably get you places. And with places I mean not actual places, though you do need one, so I guess they would probably get you places in the literal sense too.” Grantaire frowned at himself like he always did when he got lost in his own ramblings.

Enjolras could barely suppress a smile. “Well, I'd have to meet them first and check in with Feuilly, but thank you, that does sound like a good idea.”

“It was bound to happen one day.”

“You have good ideas all the time.”

Grantaire raised his eyebrows.

“Okay they might not always be up my alley or whatever, but you do have them,” Enjolras insisted, a small smile tucking at his lips.

Grantaire laughed. “Thanks, man,” he said.

 

“ _The trouble with schools is, they only try to teach the wrong lesson / Believe me I've been kicked out of enough of them to know_.” Grantaire's voice was beautiful as always as he danced between the graves, much to Jehan's delight, and Enjolras couldn't take his eyes off him.

“ _They want you to become less callow, less shallow, but I say why invite stress in / Stop studying strife and learn to live the unexamined life!_ ” There was a tiny twinkle in his eyes when he locked eyes with Enjolras for a second as if he was daring him to comment. Enjolras just smiled, causing Grantaire to almost run into one of the gravestones.

 

“You're really good at this,” Enjolras told him later, when they were walking back to Courfeyrac and Marius' apartment.

Grantaire looked up, surprised. “What do you mean?”

“Singing? Dancing too, but your voice- It's really amazing!”

At that Grantaire turned away, letting his hair fall over his eyes. “You don't have to do that!”

Enjolras frowned. “Do what?”

Grantaire's hands were playing around with the hem of his vest as he shook his head. “You don't have to-” He took a deep breath and turned to Enjolras again, still not meeting his eyes. “Look, I- I don't know why you suddenly want to be friends but hey, I'm not complaining. We haven't had the best of starts and I guess we can work past that for the sake of everyone and I'm really happy that we are,” Grantaire finally locked eyes with him, the realization that Grantaire genuinely believed that Enjolras did not like him knocked all air out of Enjolras's lungs. “But you really don't have to be extra nice to make me like you, it's unsettling to be quite frank. We fight and apparently we also tease and have normal discussions now but you don't have to, like, lie-”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras interrupted more forceful than he had intended to. “Look me in the eyes and tell me that you honestly think I would say something I don't mean.”

Grantaire blinked. “Well, sure when you put it like that but-”

“Grantaire, no! You're voice is amazing and I can't be the first one to tell you this. I know Jehan adores your singing, Joly and Courfeyrac both have a recorded song from you as their ringtones, Bossuet always carries something he can make a beat on, Feuilly's most beautiful painting is inspired by how you sound when you sing, the list goes on.”

“Yeah, but you guys are my friends, you have to-”

“When's your next showcase?” Enjolras asked.

Grantaire blinked. “What?”

“I know you guys have singing showcases in the theatre department every few months,” Enjolras pressed on. “When is your next one?"

Grantaire still looked confused. “A month from now?”

“Will you participate?”

“I... wasn't planning on it.”

“Would you be willing to, so I can prove a point?”

“What?”

Enjolras locked eyes with Grantaire trying to make him understand. “I have no idea about music or theatre or musicals but I do know that you can sing really, really well and I also know that others would agree with me. People who have never met you and are therefore not obligated to compliment you, which they will because you are amazing.”

Grantaire looked stricken, his eyes wide, his lips slightly parted. It took him a moment to catch himself, before his usual crocked grin found its way back onto his face. “So you want me to sing in the showcase to prove to me that I'm not at best mediocre at singing?”

Enjolras gave a sharp nod at that. “Yes.”

“You are crazy.”

“Will you do it?”

Grantaire was quiet for a few beats. “I'll think about it, Apollo.”

 

When Grantaire told him a week later that he had signed up for the showcase Enjolras hugged him without a second thought.

 

 

~. 9. Phantom of the Opera .~

 

It was the last meeting before the showcase and Grantaire basically radiated nervousness, with his chewed down nails, his shaking hands, and the amount of paper coasters he had ripped to shreds in front of him. He was also suspiciously quiet all through Enjolras's rant about the treatment of sex workers and Enjolras felt his eyes wander towards Grantaire more than once, almost hoping for an interruption. If only to maybe distract Grantaire from his needless worrying for a bit.

When the meeting started to wind down, Enjolras made a decision. He approached Grantaire's table taking the seat that Joly had left empty when he, Bossuet and Musichetta had gotten up to leave.

“You have seen Phantom of the Opera, right?” Enjolras asked, falling into the chair, leaving out any form of greeting.

The man looked up, startled, then he laughed. Grantaire had a lovely laugh, light and melodic. “That's like asking a math major if they know about multiplying, Apollo. Yes, I have seen it.”

Enjolras nodded. “What did you think?”

Grantaire gave him a weary look over, his smile still in place. “I-I liked it. Where is this going?”

“Do you think I'd like it?”

“I … honestly don't know?”

Another nod. “And you are free after this?”

“Apollo, you are worrying me.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes willing Grantaire to get his point. “I'm asking if you want to watch Phantom of the Opera with me. I rented the Anniversary Recording or something.”

“You... what?”

“Listen, it's fine if you don't have time, don't want to or just rather be by yourself but,” Enjolras shrugged pretending he wasn't getting increasingly flustered by the second. “but you look like you could use a bit of distraction. So, do you want to watch Phantom of the Opera with me?”

Grantaire blinked. The silence stretched out.

“You don't have to-”

“Grantaire do you remember how it went for you the last time you told me I don't have to do something?” That startled another laugh out of Grantaire. Enjolras continued. “You seem to be under the impression that I want to be your friend for the sake of our overlapping circle of friends. That is not true. I want to be your friend for you and no one else, so: Do you want to watch the Phantom of the Opera with me?”

“Sure,” Grantaire finally said, bewildered but seemingly happy.

 

They spend the rest of the day and a good part of the night singing along to the songs, Grantaire teaching Enjolras. From what Enjolras had heard he had expected Phantom of the Opera to be some tragic and romantic story and Grantaire took great pleasure in laughing at his horrified expression when he realized that he had been very, very wrong about that.

The thought that this had been kind of like a date only dawned Enjolras two days later.

 

“ _Think of all the things / We've shared and seen / Don't think about the way / Things might have been_ _._ ”

 

 

~. 10. [ _Surprise_ ] .~

 

The day of the showcase came and they all decided to suit up. Or to be exact Courfeyrac decided to suit up and made them all go along with it. Enjolras hadn't worn his formal wear in over a year, tugging at the sleeves of his jacket nervously as he and Combeferre made their way to the theatre department. Courfeyrac and Jehan were waiting outside both looking gorgeous in their dresses.

“You're late,” was Courfeyrac's greeting for his best friends, while Jehan gave them both a hug. “The others are already here, come on!” And he tugged at Combeferre's arm impatiently.

Inside they were greeted with more people than Enjolras would have expected, most of them already seated, lively chatter filling the room in which Enjolras had heard Grantaire sing for the first time. The memory of that day was still strangely present to him and he smiled a bit looking at the stage.

“Cosette, Bahorel and Marius saved us some seats in the third row,” Courfeyrac told them. “Ah, and look, there is our big star!”

Grantaire, who was standing a few paces away, talking to Joly and Bossuet, turned around at that. He was wearing black skinny jeans and a black v-neck, both clinging criminally well to his body. He looked at them and froze on the spot his eyes on Enjolras, making him even more self conscious. Enjolras had always thought that he looked rather ridiculous in a suit and Grantaire seemed to agree, when he turned away without a word to tug at Joly's sleeve, his facial expression almost distressed.

“Don't you have to change?” Jehan asked, their eyes wandering over Grantaire's get up.

Grantaire turned away from Joly with a slightly strained grin. “Nope, this is my costume,” he said.

“It's so colorful,” Courfeyrac remarked with a smirk.

“I know, it's black and slightly darker black, I'm very proud.”

 

They had to take their seats after that, Grantaire disappearing behind the stage.

“Good Luck,” Enjolras called after him, most certainly not blushing when Grantaire send him a wide grin over his shoulder.

“Has he told you?” Enjolras heard Courfeyrac ask Eponine as they were taking their seats.

She just rolled her eyes at him. “It's literally happening in 10 minutes stop trying to figure it out already!”

They were both referring to the fact that for some reason Grantaire had told no one what he was going to sing, insisting that it should be a surprise and Courfeyrac had made it his life’s mission to get someone to tell him beforehand. He had begged, he had dared and he had tried very poorly to intimidate but Grantaire hadn't caved.

After two nice performances, something that Enjolras could identify as Wicked and song about memories, Grantaire finally took stage and Enjolras could feel the excitement of his friends around him, together with his own.

Grantaire's hands were shaking slightly, as he let his eyes wander over the crowd until he found his friends, his eyes finally settling on Enjolras. For a beat or two they just looked at each other, then Enjolras send Grantaire an hopefully encouraging smile and the music started.

Grantaire slipped into his role easily, all nervousness forgotten as he started singing.

“ _Everybody's always talking at me / Everybody's trying to get in my head / I wanna listen to my own heart talking / I need to count on myself instead,_ ”

Courfeyrac gripped Enjolras arm, digging his fingers into him, vibrating in his seat with silent excitement, while Combeferre on his other side had to hide his laughter. Grantaire was jumping around the stage, dancing melodramatically to his apparent inner turmoil about 'losing himself to get what he wants', earning him a few laughs in the audience. Enjolras felt like he should know this song, but it took him till the chorus to get it. “ _Bet on it, bet on it, bet on it, bet on it_ ,”

Of course. This was Grantaire after all, Enjolras couldn't help but thinking, now trying not to laugh himself. When he watched the man on the stage he felt a familiar longing together with a warmth spreading through his chest. This wasn't just some crush, he realized without real surprise. He was in love. In love with Grantaire.

 

When the showcase was over Grantaire and a few others were basically drowning in people wanting to talk to them and Enjolras saw lots of them handing Grantaire their cards and he heard a few congratulating him on his daring choice of song.

“Okay fine, I believe you now, Apollo,” Grantaire told him later. “Wipe that smug grin off your face.”

And in a sudden rush of boldness Enjolras just said, “Make me.”

 

 

~. +1 Enjolras sings .~

 

Enjolras had known the song for a while and in retrospect it was very likely that Courfeyrac had been blasting it through Enjolras' and Combeferre's apartment for a reason. It wouldn't really surprise to him if Courfeyrac had noticed his feelings, it had gotten increasingly hard to hang out with Grantaire since Enjolras had realized that he was completely and stupidly in love with the man.

To sing it, though, had been a spontaneous decision. They were out once more, Joly insisting on a newly opened karaoke bar and Eponine on the rule that everyone had to sing at least once.

But to pick _that_ song?

Maybe it had been because a pleasantly buzzed Grantaire had put his head on Enjolras shoulder for a few seconds this evening, causing Enjolras to scream internally for about a minute. Maybe because Courfeyrac had been making faces behind Grantaire's back since then. Maybe it was just time and Enjolras was braver then he had thought himself to be.

 

When he got up on stage he had to blink, his eyes only slowly getting used to the light directed at him. He swallowed hard when the music started.

“ _I don’t think that passenger seat / Has ever looked this good to me,_ ” He was aware that singing wasn't really one of his strong points but people around him cheered already drunk enough to just celebrate the familiar, cheesy song. “ _He tells me about his night / And I count the colors in his eyes,_ ”

Enjolras' eyes found Grantaire's easily, locking gazes with the man. Enjolras had expected Grantaire to give him his usual mocking amused look but was just sitting there, frozen, his expression blank. After a few seconds he send Enjolras a smile that didn't reach his eyes, and Enjolras had to avert his eyes, pretending to focus on the lyrics.  
“ _He’ll never fall in love he swears / As he runs his fingers through his hair / I’m laughing cause I hope he's wrong,_ ” This had been a terrible idea, Enjolras thought with rising panic. This was way to obvious. Grantaire was going to notice and things would be awkward again, after they'd just finally managed to become friends. But Enjolras had committed to this now and he was not one to give up on something halfway through. He found Grantaire's eyes again, wide and looking up to him, as Enjolras sang: “ _I could tell you his favorite color's green / He loves to argue, born on the 17th / His sister's beautiful, he has his father's eyes / And if you asked me if I love him, I'd lie._ ”

Enjolras had never felt more vulnerable than this and he had faced crowds, angry mobs and police forces, sometimes even on the same day. But this, this was different. With Grantaire's eyes on him, his face mirroring the nausea and fear Enjolras felt rising in his chest, he felt naked. The only thing that he had left was the song, so he continued slightly off key: “ _He looks around the room / Innocently overlooks the truth / Shouldn't a light go on? / Doesn't he know that I've had him memorized for so long?_ ”

Enjolras didn't really care about the lyrics anymore, not that he could have looked away from Grantaire at this point even if he wanted to. Maybe it was a blessing that Courfeyrac had made him listen to this song so many times because now the lyrics stuck. “ _He stands there then walks away / My god if I could only say / 'I'm holding every breath for you...'”_ His breath shuddered and he almost missed the next line. _“He'd never tell you but he can play guitar / I think he can see through everything but my heart,_ ” Other people had probably noticed by now, but Enjolras didn't care. Grantaire was still looking at him and right now that was all that mattered.

He made sure to put as much force into the next line as possible, willing Grantaire to at least understand. “ _First thought when I wake up is my god he's beautiful,_ ”  
Grantaire was still looking at him, uncomprehending, and Enjolras head was spinning when he finally reached the last chorus. “ _Yes I could tell you his favorite color's green / He loves to argue oh and it kills me / His sisters beautiful he has his father's eyes / And if you asked me if I love him / If you asked me if I love him, I'd lie!_ ”

The song finished and he got the round of drunken cheers, that all the others before him had gotten. Grantaire' eyes were still on him until Bossuet got up to clap along with Bahorel, interrupting whatever had been happening here.

He staggered offstage, where Combeferre caught his arm supporting him. Enjolras hoped that his friends would account his weak knees to the alcohol, that Enjolras actually hadn't drunk tonight. They were still cheering, most on their way to rather drunk, only Courfeyrac caught Enjolras eye with a knowing look. He jerked his head in the direction of the door, where Enjolras finally caught sight of Grantaire again, as he was leaving the club. Enjolras didn't think twice, just grabbed his jacket to chase after him, ignoring the worried look Combeferre send after both of them. If Enjolras fucked this up he was gonna make Grantaire tell him to his face and not by avoiding him for the next three weeks.

The air outside was cold in comparison to the stuffy air in the club and Enjolras threw on his jacket as he chased down the street, following Grantaire's fast paced steps.

“Aire!” the nickname had never felt weirder coming from his own lips but at least Grantaire stopped.

“Not now, Apollo,” he said without turning around, sounding awfully choked up.

“Please,” was all Enjolras could say to that. “Please, can we talk?”

Carefully he reached for his sleeve, slowly turning him around. Grantaire turned willingly, his eyes wide and he looked vulnerable, almost helpless. Enjolras had expected anger, maybe disgust but not this.

“Why did you have to sing that?” Grantaire whispered. “I don't understand.”

Enjolras really had planned to explain himself, he really had, but now with Grantaire's eyes on him all words were blown out of his mind. He opened his mouth and closed it again, only letting a broken sound escape his lips. Then he leaned in slowly, carefully, giving Grantaire all the time he needed to turn away. Grantaire didn't though and Enjolras pressed his lips onto Grantaire's for a short, wonderful second, immediately stepping out of his space afterward.

Grantaire stared at him in disbelief.

“I used to be good with words before I met you,” Enjolras said, his voice breaking the silence.

And suddenly Grantaire was moving towards him, determination clear on his features. His hands framed Enjolras's face, as he pulled him down, kissing him like his life depended on it. Enjolras let out a small noise of surprise and content as his fingers found Grantaire's hips, pulling him close. Grantaire answered with a low, desperate moan that send shivers through Enjolras' entire body. The kiss wasn't perfect, except in every way that it was. It was prefect how Grantaire's nose was pressed almost painfully into Enjolras's cheekbone, how Enjolras clumsily fisted his hands into Grantaire's shirt and how Grantaire's teeth scraped over Enjolras' lips when he let his tongue slide into Enjolras's mouth.

When they parted Grantaire didn't move far, resting his forehead against the bridge of Enjolras' nose.

“Okay,” he said breathlessly. “Okay, that was not how I expected tonight to go.”

Enjolras couldn't help but smile. He wished he could see Grantaire's face to make sure that this was a good thing, but Grantaire's hands had come to rest on his shoulders, not letting go, and that was nice as well.

“Me neither,” he said after a few beats, his voice a little hoarse. And then, “I have no idea what I'm doing. Or how I'm supposed to do this right.”

Grantaire got very still at that. “What do you mean?”

“I'm pretty sure you're supposed to ask someone out before you kiss them and not the other way 'round.”

Grantaire looked up, gaping at Enjolras, his eyes as wide as before, filled with wonder. “You want to go out with me?”

Enjolras frowned. “Obviously.”

Grantaire blinked.

“If that's what you want too,” Enjolras added hurriedly. “I wouldn't want to pressure you into anything that you didn't-”

He was interrupted when Grantaire kissed him again.

“So is that a yes?” Enjolras asked when they parted.

Grantaire grinned, open and happy. “Obviously.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> \- I like to imagine that Ferre and R probably hooked up platonically once or twice during this fic.  
> \- Even the author doesn’t know what Bahorel's Halloween get up is supposed to be. He's that special. BETA NOTE: My guess would have been that Bahorel is dressed as Frankenstein's Monster going through its very confusing and emotional teenage emo phase  
> \- Courfeyrac is wearing a costume from the movie Burlesque, that I would encourage everyone to watch its amazing and 100% Courf's favorite movie.
> 
> Stuff I wanted to include but couldn't find the space:  
> Grantaire loves Notes from Phantom of the Opera. So much. He generally adores the musical but he loves that song.  
> Also his favorite Musical is Billy Elliot because it speaks to him on a lot of levels, but thats also something very private for R so he hasn't told anyone
> 
> If you want to, come say hi im [here on tumblr](http://they-hear-the-music.tumblr.com)


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